


feet on the ground

by dancequeen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fred weasley X slytherin!reader, it's just undefined feelings, it's not exactly a romantic ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29114796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancequeen/pseuds/dancequeen
Summary: Fred pairs up with a Slytherin from his year. A few interesting moments ensue.
Relationships: Fred Weasley/Reader
Kudos: 21





	feet on the ground

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ickle-ronniekins](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ickle-ronniekins).



> this is a counterpart to a George/Reader fic called head in the clouds by ickle-ronniekins on tumblr

Fred Weasley was not happy. Sure, he had made a lot of questionable, or as other people like to say 'bad', decisions in his life, but taking Care of Magical Creatures was one of the worst. Yes, it made Hagrid ecstatic, and that's always a good thing to see; yes, it's useful for his future business. However, a hellfire-cracken the size of a shoebox was making him rethink his choices.

For the lack of a better distraction, he focused on digging a hole in the grass with his trainer as Hagrid’s rumbled instructions flew over his head, missing both ears and zooming away into an indifferent oblivion. George is taking this already, he looked to George, who was quite enchanted with his partner, and thoroughly enjoying it, couldn't we have split up? He kicked the dirt lightly, startling the girl next to him.

Neither Fred nor his Slytherin partner were thrilled with each other, but misery loves company, so it might be for the best.

"How's the weather up there?" said his partner, who was crouching eye — er, shell-level, with the creature, but keeping her distance nonetheless. Her hair waved and flickered on her shoulder as she bounced on her heels.

"Immaculate, thanks for asking." he said, not wanting to get closer to the scorpion-lobster lovechild from the asshole of hell. "Y'know Hagrid said those things burn, bite, and sting, right?"

"So do I.” she said sarcastically, still keeping her gaze tied to the monster. “I'm not going to touch it, I'm just looking. You're aware we need to sketch it, label its parts and write an essay about it later?" Fred shifted his weight from foot to foot restlessly.

"Yes." his nostrils flared.

She pursed her lips and, after a moment of silence, said: "I dare you to touch it."

He crossed his arms. "I am not taking dares from you. We met three minutes ago and I haven't enjoyed a second of it."

"What's up your ass?" she turned to him, still crouching. "Actually, I don't care. Just don't take it out on me." The creature clicked their — _tail_? — _pincers_? — their something."I wasn't—" she raised an eyebrow and he fell silent and looked away.

"'m not very thrilled to be here." he mumbled. "And that ugly death trap isn't making it better. Can we start over?" he asked, sighing and tiredly sweeping his left hand through his hair, and offering his right to her.

She took it and pulled herself up, then promptly smoothed out her skirt, shook his still proffered hand, and introduced herself. Unlike his messy untucked shirt, her uniform was pressed down to the socks and her shoes held no traces of mud. It gave her a calculating, and slightly cold aura, as if she was drawn with a set of rulers and a compass. She was probably more geometrical than anyone who had ever taken Care of Magical Creatures.

"Fred." he said, even though she knew.

"Well Fred, we will be working together on this Blast-Ended Skrewt for the next few weeks, so that 'ugly death trap’ is our son you're talking about." she chided with a smile that better belonged on a sly fox rather than a girl.

"You sound very attached to it." he shot back. An idea, a thought, a silver of a notion that this might be fun slithered along the floor of his skull.

"Him.” she corrected with her pointer finger in the air. “And it's called being a good parent." she lightly jabbed him in the chest.

"Okay then. Go pet your son." Fred smirked.

They turned toward the beast which was playing in the grass like a puppy. It seemed to be wiggling its tails.

Her eyes narrowed: "Which part is the head?"

"I don't know. We should probably figure it out, since the other side shoots flames." he said in an amused tone.

"It's supposed to be a sucker, so it might be the penis-looking side." he chuckled, but when she turned to stare at him expectantly, his red eyebrow jumped in question. A breeze ruffled their hair.

"Go on then, don't be shy, we need to compare." she said flatly.

He burst out laughing so hard, a few people around them turned to stare - quite a dangerous thing to do at the moment seeing as some of the beasts started snipping. A yelp sounded from afar, and Fred laughed even harder.

At least his partner is funny.

"Seriously though, this thing is going to fire-fart on us soon and we need to figure it out."

“You don’t feel better in nature?” her tone piqued as she turned the pages of a book. Their desk was covered with them, during the first of their many study meetings.

“No.” Fred played with his quill, spinning it through his fingers. “You do?”

“I feel clearer, especially near water.”, thump, she shut her book and discarded it.

“How come?” he balanced on the back legs of his chair, eyes darting around.

“I don’t know. It’s not a thing I question.”, _flip, flip, flip_ , “It just lures me out of my head, and makes me feel a little more real, like I’m aware of my own existence. Sharper, yknow?”

Fred shook his head.

“I don’t have a need to get out of my head, it’s great in there.” he joked. She snorted and passed him a book with a piece of paper sticking out.

“Don’t you? You seem to be in there a lot though. I think you think too much.”

Fred chuckled, “That’s something I've never been told.”

“Then it’s about time.” she threw his way, but she had yet to look at him, Fred noted. The idea of her as geometrical played around in his head. “Try it next time. People exist a little sharper sometimes. It stops you from feeling like you’re going to float away.” her eyes finally flickered to him like two needles of her compasses, and shot him down. His chair hit the ground.

Before Fred had a chance to say something else or roll her idea around in his brain, she passed him a piece of parchment with a soft order to, “Write.”

His diagram of their unnamed child was much neater than hers, but his illegible handwriting distracted from it perfectly.

"That is not a t."she said, her hair almost electrified from stress-combing it with her hands.

"It's obviously a g." he chirped, but his tone sounded worn down all the same. She squinted at the paper with her mouth open for a moment, then gave up.

"How are you still this peppy?" she asked as her gaze lazily rolled itself away from the books. His tie was completely undone and being used as a bookmark, his shirt unbuttoned and ruffled like his hair, _ha, carrot head!_ , but he took no note of it as he balanced on the back legs of his chair again. Every so often, a _clank_ would sound amid their conversation when the chair struck against the stone floor and his feet hit the ground before he leaned back again.

"What are you talking about? I'm knackered." he yawned.

She looked up, and her thoughts leaked out of her head. The scenery through the window behind him was gorgeous, lit on fire by the dusk— oversaturated reds and pinks which lined the dark purple clouds.

With a loud tap on the library floor, the front legs of Fred's chair touched the ground and his head covered the sun perfectly, giving him a golden lining and making his orange hair melt into the background. The clear lines of his face looked almost chiseled in contrast to the haziness behind him.

A weight settled in the center of her torso, an iron bowling ball rolling between her stomach and her heart. _He was handsome_. She knew this. But she used to know it the way one knows they should drink water when they’re thirsty. Knowing you needed it after you drink him in, swallow, and sign, is another story.

She felt a warm metal line grow out of her chest, like a vine towards the sunlight, enter his chest and settle.

For a few moments she imagined it. She tried to note the dragging sensation of warm iron and let herself be pulled to him. She imagined the ball rolling in his center, and all his squirming being in an attempt to adjust it instead of just staying awake.

Then she blinked. Took in the real scene. Despite being exhausted, she felt tranquil in their little corner filled with books and a few very ugly sketches. She picked one up.

“Are we allowed to call his head a dick?” She questioned, but Fred just yawned and shrugged. His chair tipped back again.

“You’ll hurt yourself.” She said flatly, words moving from line to line like trains with the shittiest track designs ever.

“The thrill keeps me awake.” he closed his eyes, hair still a burning red. She didn’t dare look at the Sun for too long. Her eyes tried to follow the words. The ball rolled.

He slid another sketch towards her. “I think we should use this one.”

She put the first one aside, their hands brushing as she took the new parchment. She heard the scraping of his chair on the floor as he moved closer until his collarbone pressed against her shoulder as he leaned over to point. The body heat he was emitting only reminded her of the weariness her body carried. It also refashioned her bowling ball into an anchor slowly sinking through her stomach, tickling her insides on the way down.

The sketch was neater and much simpler than others, no more than a handful of black lines on a yellowing parchment.

“This part is the head.” Fred pointed out. “I think. It looks weird and there isn’t exactly a good reference for a randomly cross-bred demon.” He seemed so focused on his drawing that she got the feeling he was avoiding her eyes intentionally.

Stupid, really. They’re both just tired and have a lot of work.

 _Look at me_.

He didn’t.

She banished all her stupid silly thoughts and tried to turn to the books for the next few hours.

Fred stayed circling warmly on the edge of her orbit, moving around her but never looking, never acknowledging her as anything other than a voice and a pair of friendly working hands. The silly stupid thread she felt earlier vibrated. She didn't bring it up for fear they wouldn't finish all their work if she were to derail the conversation, so she waited until the end of their study session.

However, when the anticipated end neared, his chair hit the stone the last time and when she turned to him, Fred was lying on his arms on the table, asleep. His outline was as bright and as sharp as ever, but his face was soft and smooth from relaxation, like a marble statue melting. The anchor in her stomach lurch up at the sight, but she swallowed it down, smiled, and laid her head on the table too.

Another sunny afternoon had George almost skipping to his quirky partner. And Fred was glad, he liked to see his brother happy and loved teasing him for being in love even more — but he still hated the bloody beasts. He was thankful for George's efforts to cheer him up, but Fred refused to move out from under his personal gloomy cloud, choosing to carry it alone instead, the way one would an umbrella.

As soon as George mentions his partner, he knows it's time to leave him to his beloved, as he does, with minimal mocking involved (—but come on!).

As Fred approached her, he saw her roll her eyes. Funny. Something about knowing she's as un-excited as he is made his chest swell up with what can only be described as the sudden understanding of the real depth of companionship between you and a stranger, an acquaintance, a friend. I might not like this, but I am not alone.

"They're four feet long already. Your future sister-in-law," said his partner, gesturing to George's love with her head, at which Fred smiled warmly, "said we only get to work with them for another class. I think she might cry." His clouds stopped thundering.

"Don't be rude." he replied but did not sound angry in the least.

"I'm not. She's a nice girl and God bless her for being passionate about this. We need people like her, otherwise the rest of us would have to care as well." she reasoned.

"There's that warm and welcoming Slytherin care I've heard all about." he said sarcastically.

"Rude. Gingers truly are soulless." Fred got nudged in the ribs.

"Oi!"

"Oi yourself!" she flipped her hair and flashed her foxy smile. No, it's fox-like. "Don't start things you can't finish."

"Well, I'm ready to be done with this thing." he looked pointedly at the snapping creature reaching out to them like a baby in a cot.

They received their instructions from Hagrid to feed, entertain, and check the health of the creature and set off to work. After a few minutes of silence, Fred spoke.

"I think there's something wrong with this thing." he squinted.

"Him." She corrected, "He's our son."

"Well I think our son is pregnant." Fred’s face soured.

“No way." she replied, kneeling closer to the beast than she'd ever dared before. "How do you know?"

"A hunch?" Fred shrugged his very nicely shaped shoulders. No! "I'm not sure. It did eat three times as much as the others. It should be a lot fatter."

"He." She absent-mindedly corrected, trying to get a good enough look.

"He doesn't look sick but he's being weird." he squatted next to her, bouncing on his heels.

"Maybe he's lonely. We both ditched a few times." She bumped her knee into his. "I dare you to touch him."

Fred laughed as he turned to her. "I'm not that commited of a father. You do it."

"Why me? You need to do something too!" she whined as their son approached in a rather puppy-like gait, as if he was going to rub against their legs, and Fred's gaze slipped off her, like that day in the library.

"I'll do whatever you want.” he paused "Within reason, of course."

"Touch him."

"Within reason."

"Fine." their dark-shelled son stood before them now, but they were not as hesitant this time. The beast looked at Fred with either his head or his stinger (how is it still not clear?).

Slowly and shakily, her hand reached out. She almost withdrew it, but it already made contact with their son's back and he made a sound similar to purring, which was both surprising and unsettling. Her face bent in disgust as her entire palm pressed against his black shell, gleaming maroon in the sunlight.

"Ew. He's slimy." she detached her hand to see a catran-like substance coating it. "How is he slimy?"

Fred's nose was scrunched as well but an amused gleam flickered on his face nonetheless. “Disgusting.”

"Well, I did it." she complained, trying to wipe her hand on his arm, but he rose to his feet quickly, laughing.

“Keep that to yourself.” Fred warned, trying to avoid her swift attempts to use him as a rag.

“Come on!” She whined. “We’re in this together. If I have to be gross then so do you.” she jumped up after Fred.

He felt weightless as he maneuvered around her and the clawing beast that still purred by their feet, and he realized how warm the sunlight was. His little cloud was gone. In that distracted second of their impromptu three-creature quickstep, she wrapped her clean hand around his hand and pulled herself closer to him.

She grinned from ear to ear, and Fred felt her wet, cold hand sliding down his shoulder. She wiped a few times down his arm and chest with a wickedly satisfied look in her face as he wondered why he didn’t mind it so much. His eyes danced over her face the way his trainers had over the grass mere seconds ago.

“What?” she asked. _Wait, she was speaking_.

“Um, nothing.” his face rearranged itself from a goofy smile (What?) and he looked at his stained shirt. Before he even had time to comment, her voice made the center of his stomach tighten.

“Do you think he'd lick one if she asked?” Fred followed her gaze to George, looking as dreamy as his partner who was purring back at their Blast-Ended Skrewt. Sunlight covered them too.

Her hand still held onto him.

Fred sighed, both amused and lightheaded from a new discovery threatening to unveil its face in his mind. George laughed so loudly it reached Fred’s ears, and he responded, “Yes.”

“Would you lick one for me?” she batted her eyelashes.

“Absolutely not.” he said without missing a beat.

“What kind of a father won't even lick his own son?” she put a hand on her chest, faux-horrified.

“I still think our son is pregnant.” he said, grinning at her.

“What kind of a father won't lick his own pregnant son?” she humored.

“You're making this worse than it has to be.”

Her eyebrow rose as she offered: “You can always do this alone?”

“No.” something ugly and covered in spikes spun in Fred's stomach.

“Well then,” she said smugly, as if she knew, “you need to start cooperating.” She tugged on his arm with her hand _that was there the whole time_. Her arm slid around his as she pulled him along, and Fred adjusted his collar with his fingers. _When did they get so far away from the group?_

“You don’t pet him, you don’t groom him with your tongue like a cat, what do you do? I haven’t seen you change a single diaper!” she over-exaggerated. “I’m basically a single mother!”

He laughed and apologized, feeling lighter and sharper than he had all day.

His future sister-in-law was wrong. They worked on their loving, puppy-like hell scorpions for three more classes, and had another one in a classroom, correcting their essays. During that class, they found out that their son really was pregnant, at which they laughed all the way to the Great Hall.

Fred felt something heavy rolling over his intestines when he thought of the end. It wound itself around his organs until his lips dropped. Nevertheless, he grinned at George (who definitely saw through him), and, with his chin up like a proud lion, departed from him to sit next to his partner, one last time.

He thought about her more often than he expected to, and he feared he might have to stop soon.

As he slid next to her, his metaphorical tail curled closer to him. She beamed brightly at him, and offered her closed fist.

“You ready, partner?”

 _No,_ he curled his fingers with a smile, _I don’t think I am_ , and bumped their hands together.

“Doesn’t have to end? Didn't you listen?” she asked him incredulously as he caught up with her. He couldn’t say he has, as his ears buzzed deafeningly loudly since they received their O.

Maybe she had a point when she said there were moments when people felt more defined as he was more sure than ever that he existed in the corridor leading to the Care of Magical Creatures classroom, as his limbs filled with lead at the way she spoke.

“I just thought if you—” his mouth shit on its own. “You know—”

“Holy shit, you really didn’t listen?” but this time she laughed. “Hagrid said we can pick our own partners for the next project.” Her arm curled around his own, “So unless you want to dump me, we march on.”

Whatever heavy thing has been making his stomach a winter home the past week flew off to their summer residence.

She definitely had a point about grounded moments, because when her hand squeezed his arm, the lead leaked out and the awareness of every part of his body slammed into focus.

She smiled promisingly at him, his heart stuttered, and his sneakers sunk into the stone beneath him.

And Fred smiled back.


End file.
